


The Pit

by Angelic_Temptress



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12999654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelic_Temptress/pseuds/Angelic_Temptress
Summary: Jaime's thoughts during the Big Meeting.





	The Pit

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I don't own 'em.

Jaime settled beside his sister, shifting in his seat as they waited for their newest rival to join them within the ruins of the dragon pit. Cersei, who never made a decision without some underlying cruelty, had suggested they meet the invading Targaryen where her ancestors had kept their steeds -- where they had grown small and weak, imprisoned and unable to spread their wings. Dragons were of the past, gone and rotted away, and Cersei wanted to remind the girl of that.

But the pit was also where five dragons had died, trapped by the fires of rioting smallfolk, and Jaime remembered reluctantly reading of the incident as a child, thinking that perhaps the dragons had won in the end. After all, when the dome had collapsed, they’d taken a thousand rebels with them.

He attempted to thrust thoughts of his battle with the silver queen from his mind, but the scent of burnt men still clung to his nostrils.

Cersei’s beautiful, gaunt face appeared paler in the presence of rubble. Though she dressed in severe black to invoke their father, the thin crown upon her cropped hair conjured memories of young, dead kings instead. The realization twisted in Jaime’s gut.

Ser Greggor flanked the siblings, and his breathing -- the only sound the monster ever made -- was heavy and loud. The measly old man Cersei had seen fit to name Hand of the Queen casually gripped the arms of his chair, and if rumors of what they were about to witness held any truth, Qyburn no doubt wanted his curious fingers upon the reanimated flesh as soon as possible. Euron Greyjoy, the salty fuck who cared little for their necessary alliance, glowered from his position at Qyburn’s right shoulder.

Beneath the Targaryen tarp, Tyrion sat beside an empty chair with Theon Greyjoy, Lord Varys, Jorah Mormont, and a handful of Dothraki as his entourage. Jaime could almost hear Cersei hiss as she glared at their little brother, who in turn did his best to not look at either of them for too long.

To their left, the few of the Northern camp waited quietly as well. Jon Snow, dressed as if he were a Stark in name, had two _southern_ advisors at his side: Ser Davos Seaworth and Lady Brienne of Tarth.

Jamie had felt her eyes on him as soon as they’d entered the dragon pit, and she hadn’t relented after they’d taken their seats. Tall and unmoving in her blue armor and cloaked in a weighty, fur cape with, he assumed, the Valyrian steel strapped at her hip, Brienne may as well have been shouting at him to acknowledge her and to listen to what her king would say.

He swallowed hard and instead forced his stare to the pit and its the dirt. After a moment of ignoring the tension, he glanced to Cersei, and it seemed she could decipher Brienne’s silent pleas just as well. A scowl had locked onto her face, distorting her features into something he loathed. Though they couldn’t have exchanged more than a few sentences, he could tell Cersei hated Brienne and had labeled her a threat long ago.

Jaime unconsciously shuttered as he peeled his attention from his sister and risked a glimpse in her direction. When Brienne’s ridiculous blue eyes adjusted uncomfortably to meet his, her gaze nearly swallowed him whole, and a flood of memories crashed upon him, as if from a broken dam.

_Sapphires. A bear’s roar. Oathkeeper._

The stupid, loyal wench should have stayed at Winterfell, behind the castle’s frozen walls and far away from the lion’s den. She was not made for politics, her tongue blunter than a tourney sword. Here, Brienne stood out of her element, surrounded by enemies all more cunning than she.

Though, he doubted any could face her with a sword in hand.

A roar interrupted their silence, and the black dragon soared onto the ruins’ edge. It screeched as it allowed the daughter of the Mad King he’d slain nearly two decades ago to climb down. The girl, dressed in grey with a red cape and pants beneath her skirt, approached the group quickly and took her seat beside her Hand. She had a small, round face graced with proud eyes, reminiscent of her brother.

Daenerys, no longer the beggar queen of the East, seemed even smaller in person, though he’d only seen the woman perched atop her black beast as she’d burned his army from the sky. But Jaime supposed anyone would look small riding a dragon.

“We waited for some time,” Cersei sneered.

“My apologizes.”


End file.
